


Clean Cut

by Patronoftheravens



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M, and some finely dressed men, gladio is a good choice for a date, it's very dialogue heavy, lots of banter, there's some dancing, there's some other background characters but they're background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13758588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patronoftheravens/pseuds/Patronoftheravens
Summary: Gladio takes Ignis to a winter gala that I made up but it's really an excuse for dancing and finely dressed men (tm) because people like a man in a suit. Or men in suits. There's two in this fic. You know who they are. This is just 1500 words of fluff and banter cause that's how I like it.Written for the FFXV Valentine's Exchange





	Clean Cut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xylianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/gifts).



Gladio takes a moment to make sure everything is as clean as he can make it. “Clean”, he thinks, is a subjective term. His “clean” is just a quick iron and an even quicker lint brushing. Ignis’ “clean” on the other hand, oof. There was a standard that King Regis’ clothes even struggled to stand up to. He double checks himself in the mirror, black suit and tie, white collared shirt. His cufflinks are done properly and the pleats in his black cotton slacks crease sharply along his legs. His shoes are shined, tied, and doubly shined for a glossy finish. In his defense, they are old shoes. His tie done in a perfect Windsor that definitely only took one try (maybe three). He even smells of the woody, smokey cologne that Ignis has expressed a particular fondness for.  
After straightening out his tie one last time, he turns to the door and begins the walk to Ignis’. It’s a short walk, halfway between his apartment and the Citadel. However, the cold makes it longer. He makes a mental note to take Ignis out for coffee after the gala.   
Ignis’ apartment is on the seventh floor, sixth door on the right. It always seemed a bit small for the prince’s adviser, at least to Gladio it did. He pauses before he knocks, does another quick check of himself and straightens his jacket. Then, he knocks, three quick raps of his knuckles against the door. He waits, about to knock again when the door swings open.  
Ignis, to be honest, looks like he always does; clean, crisp, collected. Perhaps a bit more formal in black and white than his usual lighter button downs but still, he is the man Gladio fell in love with.  
“Good evening, Gladio,” he nods, locking the door behind him.  
“Evening Iggy,” Gladio offers his arm.  
Ignis takes it, a loose grip on his bicep, “You’ve certainly done yourself up for the occasion.”  
“It’s a gala hosted by King Regis himself. Think I’d wear a tank and jean to something like this?”  
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t put it past you,”there’s a clever quirk to his lips as he says it.   
Gladio laughs, full in his chest as he steps in the elevator, “I’m the King’s Shield. Traditionally we were supposed to wear full battle armor but, I think you can see how that’s fallen out of style.”  
“A true shame. You’d look dashing in plate mail.”  
“Like, knight in shining armor dashing? Or something else?”  
“More like, rather civilized brute.”  
“Iggy, c’mon now,” they step out of the elevator when it opens, Gladio leading Ignis outside.  
“Mm...perhaps if you had a bit less of a ‘lion’s mane’ and more of a reserved hairstyle then you’d cut a more noble figure.”  
“Does the suit at least help?”  
“The suit? Oh, of course. Everyone looks good in a suit. Especially so if one takes care to tend to all of the little details,” again, the sly little quirk. Pride swells in Gladio’s chest. He noticed the effort he put into himself for tonight.  
“So you like when I dress like this?”  
“It suits you and you wear the clothes well but I can say that you look better when you’re more relaxed.”  
Gladio takes pause, looks to Ignis, “That’s quite the compliment.”  
“Of course, Gladio, you’re more than deserving of it.”  
A sheepish smile curls Gladio’s lips and before he knows it, they’re at the massive double gates to the Insomnian Citadel. They’re held open, it takes too much work to open and close them with how many guests would be at the gala.   
“Have you been practicing your Tenebrian waltz, Gladio?” Ignis fixes him with a playful smile. Maybe it’s not quite a smile, more of a smirk but not quite sharp enough to be a smirk.   
“Course I’ve been practicin’. Hate to be a disappointment on the dance floor.”  
As they enter, Gladio still finds himself impressed by the lengths the palace went to to make the gala just that much more. As it was a winter event, the color chosen was white and everything was the same pristine white or clear. White roses sat in glass vases upon white tablecloths. White plates held various hors d'oeuvres, most made to match the lighter, paler colors. Gladio hates to think of what could be done later in the night when inevitably a few guests would have too much to drink and spill a nice crimson beaujolais on the white cloth and clothing in the room.   
As they progress further, Gladio finds himself looking for Noctis. It is after all his job to protect him. Noctis sits at his father’s side, done up in royal black and white, looking down at the gala with tired eyes. His left hand holds his head up, and his right holds Lady Lunafreya’s who sits next to him (with much better posture let it be noted).   
“You think we should go make our presence known to His Majesty?” Gladio snickers as Ignis turns him to the dancefloor.  
“He knows we’re here. It is both of our jobs to be here.”  
“Well, maybe we can mix business with pleasure then,” Gladio sweeps into a bow at the edge of the marble tiled dancefloor. He tucks his left hand behind his back, offering his right, palm up, “May I have this dance, Ignis?”  
Behind him, violins strike up in another slow waltz. Ignis takes his hand and lets Gladio fold his fingers around it, “You may indeed Gladiolus.”  
Gladio can’t help the grin that curls his lips. He positions himself, one hand behind Ignis almost in between his shoulder blades, the other holding his hand. Ignis’ free hand settles on Gladio’s bicep and they slowly start to dance. Ignis’ footwork might be better than Gladio’s, but Gladio leads with enough confidence to compensate. It’s a slow waltz, slow enough that they step about the dancefloor like a sluggish hour hand. That’s the mood of the winter gala, slow, dragging, not quite grey but still involved enough to make it more interesting.  
“Why are we still here?” Asks Gladio as they retire a moment.   
Ignis plucks a flute of champagne from a nearby table and sips at it, bemused, “Our duties, Gladio.”  
“I meant here. On the floor. Should we be up with Noct?” He flicks his eyes pointedly towards the prince.  
“It was his wish that we enjoy the gala. It’s peacetime. There’s not much to worry about. Who would dare stage an assassination at a gala as well guarded as this? Look about you. City guards at the entrances, Glaives amongst the guests, and the Crownsguard is about surely. I believe I saw the Marshall not too long back. Besides,” another sip from his flute, “with two Shields in the room I doubt Noct or the King have much to fear. It’s best that we just enjoy the evening.”  
Gladio pauses a moment, eyes Ignis with a bit of suspicion, “Aren’t you normally the one concerned with Noct?”  
“Of course I am. I’ve merely rationalized the situation at hand.”  
“That’s fair. Hey,” he leans a little closer to Ignis, wraps an arm around his waist from behind to pull him close so their hips knock, “wanna get coffee after this? It’s a cold night. Nice cup of coffee would be nice, especially ‘cause we both have paperwork to do still.”  
“You have paperwork? I thought that job was specifically relegated to me and me alone.”  
“Yeah, don’t act so surprised. I get to do security reports ‘cause I ran with the Marshall the other day.”  
“Doesn’t sound much duller than typing up council reports.”  
“It’s not too bad. Have to get it done tonight else I won’t be able to take Iris out tomorrow.”  
“What’s the occasion?”  
“Nothin’ really. Promised I’d take her to get sushi tomorrow and well, I can’t break my word with my little sister, you know?”  
Ignis smiles, hands his glass off to one of the serving staff as they walk by and rests his hand over Gladio’s on his waist, “truly she couldn’t have a better older brother.”  
~  
As the night wound down, they migrated to a local cafe. It was Ignis’ favorite, perhaps only because of its proximity to the Citadel. It’s a quaint little place, wooden floors and lights shaded in warm oranges and yellows, lending it a sunny atmosphere to spite the cold outside. Ignis orders a dark roast macchiato with a touch of hazelnut syrup and sugar. Gladio orders a cappuccino, light roast, and a banana muffin. He splits the muffin with Ignis then gets a quirked eyebrow when he dunks his half in his coffee.  
“Don’t be judging how a man enjoys his muffin Iggy,” he snickers, nudging Ignis’ leg under the table.  
“I am not judging you, I’m merely observing and coming to my own conclusions.”  
“You’re judging.”  
“I judge everyone. I am more particularly judging how you’ve undone your tie and jacket.”  
Gladio laughs, smiles warmly and looks down at himself. He’s undone his tie and left it hanging about his neck. The jacket too, as well as the top few buttons of the shirt underneath are open, “was getting a little stuffy. ‘Sides, didn’t you say that I looked better when I’m more comfortable?”  
“I did say that, and I do think you look better like that. I simply wouldn’t have draped the tie in the manner that you did.”  
“That so? How would you have done it then?”  
Ignis leans across the table to pull Gladio’s tie from his shoulder and roll it up. He hands it back to him in a neat coil of silk, “just put it in your pocket. Jacket pocket, mind you, looks a bit strange in the pants pocket.”  
Gladio takes the advice and tucks it in his jacket pocket. He finishes the last of his coffee and muffin and stands, once more offering his arm to Ignis, “may I walk you home then?”  
“A gentleman hidden by a lion’s mane, of course you may.”


End file.
